A Little Thing Called Fate
by JinxRomance
Summary: Different stories of Moriarty and Moran and what they went through together. Rated M for later chapters.
1. The Meeting

Moriarty stood in front of the many monitors, dark, sleek eyes trained on only one. Normal people would have been a bit unnerved to be behind two dead men slumped in the chairs, bloody, but not Jim Moriarty. In fact, he was the one that put the bullets in the back of their heads. He wasn't too pleased he had to do it, but it needed to be done. He's been looking for years now for a right hand man for his organization. Sure, he had countless drones, clients and the couple of smart-ish men who did his deeds, but he needed someone more. A man who would stand by him at every turn and do his bidding, but was more capable then other simpletons.

It wasn't an easy task, and that eerked him more then anything. This mans IQ was through the roof, and nothing was hard for him. But right when he was just about to give up, a quaint little story crossed him. An Army sniper was dishonorable discharged for shooting without order. That's a man who's useful.

So, he easily tracked down every record about the Army dog, and Jim Moriarty finally made his choice. Sebastian Moran. IQ 168, trained sniper (Best within the contrary some would say), had a Master's in chemistry, and has been deemed insane.

So, after Jim made sure Moran was perfect for job as his chief of staff, he made his way to the Army's underground prison ward. So, he now stood, staring at the lone man in the only insane asylum sector. Moriarty found it amusing that Moran was the only one in it.

On the monitor, Moriarty watched the tall man in the straight jacket, sat without motion in the dirty white room. He had short black hair, a bit of scruff on his set jaw. Moran intrigued Moriarty, more so then should be necessary. Someone insane would not be so calm in a blank room, staring with chocolate brown eyes at the door. Someone built on anger and rage as the records say would not be so still.

With a sigh, Moriarty took the keys from one of the dead men's belt, scuffing and kicking the body to the ground. "Your filthily blood got on my cuff. I'll be sure to kill your daughter when I'm done." He said, then walked out.

After walking through the maze, he finally reached the farthest end of the ward, and unlocked the first door to the asylum. It was empty, not even guards were around. This intrigued the small man even more. As he casually made his way through the ward, stopping in front of the door where the insane man sat in. He decided not to comment on how he couldn't reach the window to look in, instead, he simply opened the door and pulled it open, putting his hands in his pants pockets, smirking at Moran. "Hello Seb dear." Moriarty said, and Moran proceeded to intrigue him more as he smirked back.

"Scottish?" Moran asked, voice deep. That was to be expected considering his height and lean muscles from being in the Army. A bit guff, obviously a smoker.

Moriarty shrugged. "Yes. Problem?"

"No." Moran just kept that amused smirk on.

"Good." Moriarty said, walking into the room and looking around. "Tell me this, Seb. Why isn't there anybody in this ward?" He asked, looking down at the man, he only shrugged. Well, tried to. The straight jacket restricted his movements greatly.

"No one laughed." He said, staring up at Moriarty. He was amazed the Moran was so brave to do so. Most who looked into Moriarty's eyes would look away, seeing the dark intelligence. But not Moran.

"Excuse me?" Moriarty asked, not connecting the answer to his question. This was new. He hated not knowing.

But Moran only continued to smirk. "No one laughed around here. So, at night, I would break out of the room and kill the guards who beat the patients' when they laughed."

Moriarty smiled. Yes. This man is perfect for the job. "Care for a job?" Moriarty asked, and the man rolled his eyes, which almost infuriated Jim Moriarty. _No one_ rolled eyes at him.

"No, I'm quite fine here. Though, they seem to be late for my lunch." With a sigh, Moran stood easily and broke the straight jacket, and Moriarty stared in almost awe. Moran stood at a good six foot five, but he wasn't buff. As he took the jacket off, Moriarty could see he was very lean. Moriarty easily deduced he had at least a ninety percent muscle mass. Yes, this man would be _very_ useful.

"I'm not asking anymore, Seb darling." Moriarty said, face going serious. "You will work for me."

Moran laughed, walking past Moriarty and into the ward. Moriarty followed, rage becoming inflamed. "Look, little man, I doubt you want me anywhere near whatever you're doing. Dunno if you noticed, but I'm insane." Moran hopped over the desk, going down and rummaging around.

"Yes, I know. Hence why you're perfect. I need a chief of staff." Moriarty said, putting his hands back in his pants as Moran popped back up, leaning on the desk as he began to eat an apple.

"Chief of staff? Hm, sounds interesting. What do you do?"

Moriarty thought about it. What _was_ he? His job didn't have a name, so he decided to simply say what he did. "I help people take care of their special problems. Kill off whoever anyone needs. Stuff like that." Moriarty shrugged.

Moran laughed. "Kinda like a consulting criminal?"

Moriarty stood there for a second. He liked that. He liked it a lot. "Yes, you could say that."

Moran shrugged and hopped over the desk again. "Alright, sure. Why not?"

The small man beamed. He always got what he wanted. And oh how he wanted Sebastian Moran. They began to walk away together, side by side. The picture was perfect. A mad man and his dog. As they go out of site, you could hear Moriarty talk to Moran. "Oh, and if you call me little again, I'll kill you. Then fire you."


	2. Death

A tall man sat on the edge of a cliff, a roaring river hundreds of feet below him. It was snowing, the night air bitter as a blood moon gloomed above the thought of beautiful Reichenbach Falls. The man had short, black hair, spiked fashionably, long legs hanging off the edge as he solemnly stares blankly down. "You and your fucking theatrics." He said, laughing coldly to himself. "You'd probably enjoy this. Creepy night, blood moon, me sitting here like a damned fool." He shook his head, closing his eyes. "You always thought you could win. Now both of you are dead." he twirled the brown hat in his hand, staring at it without emotion. "Remember when we went to Monaco? We had to face off an entire army and I got shot. You called me a fool for getting caught. I just smiled, leading us back to the plane after you blew up the factory. I never got to tell you that bullet was aimed at your head…" Laughing once more. "Oh, you'd get so pissy whenever you stood next to me. Only coming up to my shoulder. You'd then proceed to punch me in the jaw whenever I called you 'My little man'." He licked his lips lightly, memories flooding him.

"Oh, but we had fun. Don't think I never caught those looks you slid me whenever you thought I wasn't looking. Or whenever I was asleep you'd slip your hand in mine." He smiled lightly. "You tried so hard to not show emotions around me in public. Tried to downsize me, but I never missed those bumps you gave me as we walked along the street or in headquarters. You acted so tuff but I saw right through it…"

His face seemed pained as he thought about it. He was using past tense. He despised every second of this. "I was the one that was suppose to go first. I was the one that was suppose to go down in flames, because you would go on. You always go on… Went on…" He didn't cry though. His heart ached and everything was pointless, but he did not cry. "I swore to protect you. How could I protect you when you always went behind my back? Always trying to prove how much more clever you were then him." He took a shaky breath. "Was it worth it? Yeah… You'd probably say yes. Smugly of course. You took him down. That's all you ever wanted…" He looked up through the falling ice that floated own, staring at the red moon. "You were the man who pulled everything off. If I were a man who believed in magic, I would bet my money that you'd made this night in name of your death." He sighed and looked back down the steep cliff. He waited until the police left, then had to wait until that damned Watson left. But, he understood how Watson felt. The four of them were a pair on opposite sides.

He didn't budge when he felt a cold barrel on the back of his head. "Hello Moran." The deep voice said. He laughed. He laughed harder then he had before. He stood, turning to look at the equally tall man, the barrel of a gun in between his eyes. His amused brown ones stared right back into the tried, most obviously _not_ amused blue ones. "Making sure I was dead I see." He said coldly, and Moran just smiled.

"Obviously, you're not." He had to play it cool. It would disgrace the man who died if he just broke down then. He had to keep is funny nature. Even though his heart burned and raged and his mind only wanted revenge. To kill this man slowly. To destroy him for killing the only man who meant anything to Moran. "You look terrible Sherlock dear." Moran continued, looking over the ripped and torn clothes, face bleeding from cuts.

Sherlock scowled, cocking the gun. "One down, fifteen to go." He said, and Moran easily calculated he was talking about Moriarty's gang chain.

Moran smiled and held his arms out, looking up at the sky as the snow melted on his skin. "Aim for the heart please." Maybe then the pain would stop.

Sherlock pointed the gun to his heart, but of course he had to riddle out everything. "You loved him, didn't you?" He more stated then asked. And that was when a single tear fell, him smiling up at the blood moon. That was enough of an answer, because Sherlock pulled the trigger and Moran fell backwards off the cliff, closing his eyes. "You.. A-and your fucking theatrics…" Was his last words before crashing into the water.

Sherlock watched him fall, making sure Moran was no more. He would have said that he felt bad for the poor sniper, but he'd be lying. He scoffed and limped away.

The hat Moran held floated down, touching the rushing water and drifting after it's lone master, it on the end of the river of blood that escaped the mans body. Nobody noticed, but the moment the cold bullet tore through the soft flesh, the night air grew colder as vengeance was promised in the stilling air.


	3. Shots and Spiders

Moran walked in the overly large and obviously expensive building a bit behind Moriarty. As he looked around, he didn't miss the men in suits staring- nay- glaring at him. The ones wearing the sunglasses put their hands on the butt of their guns, talking on the radio that was on their collars. As they came up to the elevator, Moriarty was allowed through, but two large men stopped Moran. "We're going to have to ask you to leave, sir." Moran looked down at the two different tanned hands that were on his shoulder and chest.

"I'm going to have to ask you to remove your meat from me before I break six individual bones in them." He looked back up, looking between the clean cut men. They reminded him of the Army. He hated the Army. Moriarty turned and sighed, but at Moran's comment he held his hand up to the men behind him. He wanted to see what this new sniper offered. If he actually delivered his threats.

One of the men, raising his shoulder, putting his free hand on the radio. "Code 76-3b." He said and put his hand down. "Sir, I will ask you-" He was cut off when Moran slammed his palm up on the underside of his elbow, grabbing the other mans hand and crushing it.

Moran stood, looking down at the men, one holding his now limp arm, the other holding back cries, bones popped out from the skin. "I don't like being touched. Oh, sorry… I think that was twelve bones I broke…"

Moriarty almost beamed. This man was perfect. Someone who delivers a threat? Very rare. Someone who can actually pull it off? Even more so. "Code 42-5A! Take him down!" One of the men behind Moriarty said, but the small man turned, glaring up at the security guard.

"Call it off. He's with me." Moriarty said, and the man looked down at him.

"But wh-"

"I said he's. With. Me." Moriarty glared dangerously, and the man took a smart step back, calling into the radio to let Moran through. With a growl as he passed the men, Moriarty walked into the lift, glaring at the tall man who stood there like an idiot. "Are you coming? Because if not I can let you continue." He put his hands in his pants, and Moran just shrugged, walking into the lift next to Moriarty. The doors closed and the lift started to go up.

"That was remarkably sweet of you." Moran jested, grinning down at Moriarty who only scowled.

"Shut up before I put a bullet in your shoulder." He growled. Jim Moriarty _hated_ to be called sweet. He is a mastermind criminal. Mastermind criminals' were not _sweet_.

Moran then proceeded to wrap his long arms around the shorter mans shoulders, and Moriarty was at an unusual loss. What kind of fool would act to chipper and chummy to not only a man who he just met, but a man who is obviously someone to be fared. "You need to lighten up kid." Moran said, grinning down at Moriarty.

Moriarty glared up at the tall man, who only continued to grin. There was no fear, there was no hesitation. Moran intrigued Moriarty. "Get your arm off of me." The smaller man growled, and Moran just shrugged, not even a bit threatened, but removing his arm all the same. Moriarty straightened his far to expensive suit, muttering to himself under his breath darkly.

"So, what're we doing boss?" He asked, just as the lift stopped and the doors opened. The two men standing with their backs to it separated, letting the two men pass. As they walked into the long, grey concreted hallway, Moriarty lead the tall man to a armored door.

"I want to see how good you are at shooting." He said, unlocking the door and opening it, walking in first.

As Moran walked in, he saw it was a normal indoor shooting range, like what police had. "Cool." Moran said, nodding some. Moriarty rolled his eyes at the seemingly immature adult as he went over to the locker of guns.

"Come, pet. Choose your weapon." Moriarty said, moving to the side as Moran walked up, brown eyes scanning the weapons before reaching out and grabbing the sniper. Moriarty rolled his eyes once more. "Obvious." With a turn he walked over to the controls, pressing a button and watching as targets come up. "You must hit as many targets as you can, and if I feel you're good enough, I'll keep you. If not, I'll kill you." The small man pushed another button, the targets now moving.

Moran sniffed, putting the sniper up against his shoulder, looking around once. "Turn the lights off." The tall man said, and Moriarty raised a brow.

"Do you really think you're that good?" Moriarty asked and Moran grinned over to the small man.

"I _know_ I'm that good."

Moriarty shrugged, muttering, "It's your life." Then proceeded to turn the lights off. After 21.33 seconds, Moriarty heard eight shots. Moriarty turned the lights back on and raised a brow as he looked to see each target had one hole in the middle. He looked to Moran, who seemed to be watching a spider walking up a wall. Moriarty deduced easily that this man was more of a child then anything else, but he is very good at what he does.

As Moran jumped back, pointing the sniper to the ground, looking all around saying ,"I lost it! Mayday! Spider on the loose!", Moriarty sighed, shaking his head. He supposed he could deal with this odd man's personality, because he seemed to be one of the best. And that's what he needed.


End file.
